Driving Ahead

Driving Ahead

The darkness had turned into a solid mass with the unexpected descent of thick fog. The headlights of the car valiantly attempted the task of piercing the shroud of swirling grey that now engulfed Dartmoor, but the vaporous mass, with a cold indifference, simply rebounded the light back to its’ source.

Only moments earlier, Kenneth Tregaskis, and his wife Elisabeth-Louise, had been able to see much farther. As they had driven the twisting road, climbing and then dramatically dropping into deep valleys, they had seen the shapes and outlines of Tors, fields, and outcrops of granite rocks. The beams of the headlights, imitating searchlights, briefly illuminated the surroundings as they swept the countryside. Occasionally, the lights of a distant town or village, would sparkle enticingly at them, and then disappear as they followed the undulating tarmac down another hillside.

The fog had quickly changed that and made their whole universe the short, few feet visible beyond the windscreen, forcing Kenneth to slow down and use the centre line as a ‘pathfinder’, following every twist and turn of the white paint and reflective cat’s eyes.

“I told you we should have stayed on the Motorway.” Elisabeth-Louise said, quickly firing a look of disdain at her husband. “I knew this would happen, but oh no you wanted to go over the moors, ‘it’ll be lovely and quiet’, you said, ‘and with the clear weather it’ll be a doozy of a run’, you said. Now look at us, for the love of God, I cannot see a thing.”

Kenneth didn’t reply at first, he knew this had the potential of turning into the ‘you should have let me learn to drive’ debate they appeared to be having more and more regularly since he had been told of the possibility of Prostate Cancer. He also knew his wife of 35 years wasn’t really angry with him, no, she was angry at his illness, angry and scared; it had made her suddenly realise how much she relied upon him for the seeming unimportant matters, such as driving to the shops etc. so now she was fighting. Fighting to avoid facing the harsh reality of not having the luxury of a ‘chauffeur service’ at her beck and call, the even harsher reality of that empty space next to her in their large double bed, and the empty seat opposite at the breakfast table.

“Well dear,” Kenneth finally said, “you have to admit the drive from Ashburton to Poundsgate was rather nice. I admit the fog is now a bit of an irritation, but it’s not as if we’re in a hurry now is it?” Keeping a firm grip on the steering wheel, he risked a quick look towards the passenger seat.

“Oh do be quiet, concentrate, and keep your eyes on the road you old fool, you know those blasted Dartmoor Ponies are always on the roads at night. Foolish animals, they should put a fence along here.”

“They only come onto the road for the warmth of the tarmac dear, and you know yourself that it would be far too expensive to put fencing along all the roads on the moors. Anyway I’m a good driver and before you say anything, I’m doing less than 30 miles an hour so I’m not speeding along like you think I do.”

Elisabeth-Louise, her eyes almost slits as she desperately strained to see through the grey nothingness, brightened to a near dazzle by the reflecting lights. Without looking at his wife, Kenneth knew the look on her face would be set in that ‘not quite sulking, just deep in thought’ look. Her lips pressed firmly together as she would turn different ideas, thoughts and possibly a few memories over in her mind.

A great chasm opening in his chest was quickly being filled with concrete butterflies, as he had the sudden thought of his Lou-Beth being alone. All alone. They had been very lucky they’d always said, lucky because they’d found their ‘soul-mate’ in each other. Now though? Now that damn quack of a Doctor had told them of a third member of the marriage, Cancer; unseen, unfelt, yet always there. His emotion grew in strength, forcing him to look across at his life long companion.

Elisabeth-Louise’ face was set in the exact pose he knew it would be. Abruptly it started to change; her eyes opened wide, the lips began to part, the skin around her mouth suddenly tightened and started to pull back. Surprise or horror… shock. Kenneth quickly recognised the look and realised she must have seen something while he had diverted his attention.

As fast as he could, Kenneth returned his gaze to the front, it seemed to take so long. When he finally faced forward he saw the man, a young man, dressed in dark clothing, stood in the road, stood in the path of their car. Kenneth knew he had instinctively stamped on the footbrake, yet nothing seemed to be happening, all time was stretching, extending the agony and fear that threatened to snatch him in its’ cold, vice-like grip.

The passing seconds took an eternity to pass. Kenneth, with his brain screaming at him, had time to look at the man. He was around twenty years of age, clean-shaven with long dark hair, and he was dressed in a long black coat. The strangest part was that Kenneth thought the man looked almost happy, a serene look on his face, none of the fear or surprise you’d expect to find for the impending accident. There was no getting away from it; vehicle and human were definitely going to collide. Yet here was this stranger, with the unusual look, giving the impression that he wanted to be exactly where he was.

In slow motion, Kenneth saw the front of his car smash into the man, causing him to buckle forwards, his head crashing onto the steel bonnet, and then he slowly sank down, out of sight as the car came to a juddering halt.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.” Elisabeth-Louise whispered a barely audible, fear filled mantra.

“Stay here.” Ordered Kenneth as he fought with his seat belt. “I’m going to check on him. He shouldn’t be too badly hurt, we were going slowly. You stay here Lou. Alright?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, as soon as his seat belt unclipped he opened the door and rushed out into the night, flicking the door shut. The mist swirled around him, he could feel the dampness covering him in its thin veil and he could smell the bracken that surrounded the area. The chill of the night air swamped him, and soon engulfed his whole being, making him shiver in his thin shirt. Pausing to allow his eyes to adjust, and stalling for time in the vain attempt to ‘put off’ what he had to do next, Kenneth looked around; blackness softened slightly by the grey of the ground hugging cloud.

“Come on boy!” He sternly told himself. “Get this over with, grip the bull by the horns.”

Without giving himself any more time, Kenneth took purposeful strides to the front of his car to help the poor lad, (hoping, praying, he wasn’t too badly hurt). Once at the front, Kenneth forced his eyes down to where the man should be; should be, but wasn’t. In fact there was no sign of him at all. Confused, Kenneth looked around, then he got down on his hands and knees and checked underneath the car, nothing. Fearing the man had somehow re-bounded, Kenneth started to look around the passenger side of the car, even to the side of the road in the short hedge, and then the verge to the other side of the road, still nothing. Kenneth widened his search area around his car, straining to see through the fog as far as he could, listening intently in case of a cry for help or even a moan of pain to signal the whereabouts of the hurt man. No sign whatsoever.

“What is it?” His wife’s’ voice from her now open window, made him return to her door. “Is he alright?”

“Stay in the car my dear. I… I. I can’t find him. He’s nowhere to be seen… I’ve looked everywhere!”

“Don’t be stupid Kenneth! People do not just ‘disappear’ have you looked under the car?”

“I’m telling you woman! I’ve looked everywhere!”

“No need to shout Kenneth. I’m getting out, mind out of the way. We can both have a good look.” Elisabeth-Louise started to undo her seat belt and get out.

“No! No dear, I’m sorry. I’ll have another look.” Kenneth held his wife’s’ hand on top of the open window and gently squeezed. “You stay there, it’s cold and damp out here, you’ll get a chill.”

Kenneth thought he sounded calm, hoped he sounded calm. Inside he was falling to pieces; he could feel the shock and panic rising and was fighting as hard as he could to suppress them. Just the adrenaline, he thought to himself, ‘fight or flight’ that’s all. At the moment mostly flight.

Kenneth forced himself once again to the front of his car. Once there he looked around the surrounding area once more, still no man. Then he started to inspect his car, feeling a slight irritation at the inevitable damage and the grief he would have to go through to get it repaired. There wasn’t any, not even a slight dimple in the body work. Kenneth ran his hand over the clean, smooth paint of the bonnet, not a scratch. Then he looked at the rest of the front; headlights, grille, front spoiler, all completely intact. He was starting to get more than a little spooked. Such tales of horror and intrigue had been told about Dartmoor for as long as he could remember. The Hairy Hands, they were said to inhabit nearby; they’d grab your steering wheel and force you off the road. He’d thought the legend was nothing more than a convenient excuse for driver’s who had enjoyed the hospitality of the local Hostelries dotted over the moors, a little too much. Now though, he found himself almost believing the old legends. Even the Hound of The Baskervilles was, he recalled, set around this area. Then there was the Prison, just a few miles away, built by P.O.W.’s from the Napoleonic Wars. All kinds of tales about escapees and the trials of them getting lost, some never being seen again, others turning up at farmhouses pleading to be taken back to the Prison.

The Prison! Of course. Kenneth thought, Escapees? Perhaps that’s what he was, now he’s been seen, he’s run off in fear of re-capture. The accident replayed in his minds’ eye; the man wasn’t wearing a prison uniform, not that Kenneth knew what a prison uniform looked like, he assumed it was some kind of overalls or clothing emblazoned with ‘PRISONER’ or some such thing. Anyway he could have stolen clothing to make his escape.

Kenneth knew however, that even if the collision hadn’t been too severe, there would still be marks on his car where there were now none. As the vision of the man striking his car repeated in his mind, Kenneth realised one more thing; no sound, there was no sound at all when human and car collided. Even being sealed in their comfortable cocoon, they should have heard a thud or something, surely?

Now fear and a sharp, cold, feeling of complete isolation swept over him. The realisation of them being exposed and totally alone made Kenneth rush back to the car, get in, and lock them both in the vehicle.

“Kenneth?” His wife became alarmed at the look on her husband’s face; he’d turned very pale and was shaking slightly. “What is it? What happened?”

With a breathless voice Kenneth replied, “Nothing happened. But that’s it. Nothing. No sign. No sound. Nothing. Nothing at all.” He paused, and seemed to regain some control. “I… I think he was an Escaped Prisoner dear. We’ll report it at the Police Station when we get to Tavistock. Nothing to worry about. Let’s…lets just get away from here, in case he’s got help.”

Kenneth put the car into Drive and as quickly as his depleted visibility would allow, he made for Tavistock, just a few miles away.

As the road had led them slowly off the High Moors and closer to ‘civilisation’ the fog had dissipated, helping Kenneth to start feeling more comfortable. The silence in the car since he’d locked them in, had become an almost tangible entity, a weight that was building pressure within the vehicle, bearing down on its’ occupants.

Once under the man-made, orange tinged, glare of streetlights, both husband and wife gave a small sigh of relief, the tenseness of earlier beginning to slip away, vanishing like the fog beforehand. The streets were quiet, Kenneth could see a few people in the distance, no doubt exiting the local pubs and making a leisurely return to their Homes.
As they got closer to the Police Station, Kenneth noticed a young couple walking along the pavement on the other side of the road. They both appeared to be supporting each other as they went, not completely drunk, just enough to feel ‘squiffy’ as Elisabeth-Louise would say. Kenneth smiled to himself at the sight of the couple, a flash back to when he and his Lou-Beth had been courting. As he drew closer the couple stopped, and stood completely still. They stared at the car as it passed them, a look of puzzlement on their faces, and just as he passed, Kenneth was sure the young woman started to point at them.

Just another weird occurrence in a very peculiar night, Kenneth thought to himself. Don’t start getting paranoid now; we’re nearly at the Police Station. He looked in the drivers’ door mirror, the couple had swivelled like the beam of a lighthouse, tracking the cars’ movement and watching as it drove out of sight.

Kenneth felt a surge of relief as he guided the car into the Car Park for the Police Station. His relief was boosted further at the sight of Police vehicles, and the warm, inviting glow of the Station’s lights from the windows. The old, blue, lantern style light above the door with the proclamation; POLICE shining out made Kenneth feel even more re-assured.

Once stopped he let out a breath he never realised he’d been holding in, relaxing his tight grip on the steering wheel, he prepared to get out.

“Stay here my love.” He said, “I’ll go in and explain to them what happened. I’m sure they’ll know what to do.”

With his confidence growing, he got out into the chilly night again. Kenneth walked the short distance to the steps of the Police Station. As he reached the steps, he turned to give his wife a reassuring, ‘it’s fine and dandy’ look and wave.
He heard the doors of the Station open and voices approaching, a split second before he saw the grisly vision on the front of his car.

Blood was splattered all over the front of the car. A severed hand still attached to part of a forearm, was caught between the bonnet and the grille, and wedged in the front grille with its’ long dark hair matted with blood, was the man’s head. The look on the face now one of mocking.